Afternoon Tea
by 123-000
Summary: Warning! 3rd Game Spoiler   Someone has slipped something into the tea.  ADULTS only! LaytonXClive
1. 1

The Professor's house used to be such a quiet one. A tall thin, stone building where Professor Layton lived during the rare occasions he was at home. In recent years, after taking in an Apprentice, the house was that little bit more cheerful. Luke was the son Layton never had, and they lived together in the less-quiet old house. Even more recently, a young waif called Flora had come to stay with Luke and the Professor under complex circumstances. At any rate, they made quite a happy little family and the house was often cheerful nowadays.

And then, a fourth had joined them. An older boy, or, really a young man who had some nasty rumours going around about him. Some said he was quite mad. Regardless, The kind professor took him in and all four of them lived together in the noisy little, tall, thin house.

"I think it's time for some tea" The professor announced to nobody in particular, raising from his desk and sauntering toward the kitchen. The older boy, who was reading by the dusty fireplace, looked up and watched him walk by.

The professor put his head back around the door;

"Tea. Clive, would you like some?" he asked politely, but tripped over the words slightly. He hadn't been quite himself since meeting this fascinating young gentleman. He had been so convincing as an older version of Luke and it had been hard for The Professor to even break out of the habit of calling him by that name, but something was different now, and he had yet to figure out what.

"Yes Professor, that would be lovely. Thank you", he smiled back up at him and watched the spot he had just been standing in after he'd left. This was Professor Layton! He mentally scolded himself. He shouldn't stare like an awestruck young girl, but he couldn't help it, he loved the Professor in many ways, but most recently in ways that simply weren't appropriate for a gentleman. It was embarassing, but he did his best to hide it.  
Flora and the young Luke were already in the kitchen when the professor got there, it seemed Flora was busying herself with studies and Luke had taken to doing puzzles beside her while she did so. He had taken it to heart when the Professor said that a true gentleman pays attention to schoolwork. Being only ten years old, Luke had no schoolwork to pay attention to during the weekend.

"Are you going to make tea professor?" Flora asked, looking up from her work. It was mostly out of politeness that she asked; the answer was always going to be yes.  
"Yes my dear, Clive and I were going to have some tea, would you two like to join us?"  
"No no... In fact yes, that would be nice. Actually I have a special recipie for a kind of tea I haven't tried before, would you mind if I made that for...us?" Flora seemed very keen on being helpful around the house. Of course the Professor allowed that, smiling at the girl and thanking her, completely oblivious to the calculating gleam in her eye.

"We've completely run out of sugar for the tea!" stated Flora, as she brought the tray with the teapot and only two cups on it out of the kitchen.  
"Luke prefers sweet tea, we will go to the shop to buy some more sugar" she recited, turned on her heel, and left.  
"What an odd girl" Clive remarked bluntly, while Layton poured the tea in a more polite manner and choose to say nothing. The tea smelled wonderful, it certainly wasn't a blend he'd ever encountered before. The liquid was even pink! How very like Flora, he thought to himself with a chuckle and passed the other teacup over to Clive, who had rested his book on the arm of his chair and was staring into the fire that was crackling in the hearth.  
The yellow light really sparked in the boys eyes. Giving him a warm glow, and at the same time a slightly off-kilter look. He shuffled a little in his chair, angling towards the fire for more warmth and took a sip from his cup. The liquid wet his round, youthful lips and the firelight made them gleam.  
Wait, what was he thinking? The Professor dragged his stare away from the young man and down to his tea. It was already half gone. He hadn't even noticed he was drinking it! It was sweet, far too sweet to need sugar, but had a hot, almost spicy flavour in it too. It was hot too. Of course it was hot, tea is supposed to be hot, but this tea just seemed to be extra warming. Maybe it was the spice, or the sweetness. It didn't matter. It was hot, the whole room was.  
His eyes flickered back up to the room, and caught Clive's eyes. He was staring right back. They both flushed and looked away, hoping the other hadn't noticed.  
"Interesting tea, this one, Flora made it" Layton broke the silence awkwardly, trying to make the atmosphere less heavy and distract himself from the lurid things his mind seemed to want to embarrass him with.  
"It is interesting. I'm quite enjoying it though" Clive poured a second cup, his slender but capable fingers wrapping around the handle of the tea pot to lift it. The Professor felt the blood rush away from his head. He looked at the boy across from him as if seeing him for the first time. The sharp lines of his jacket clashed with his rough, haphazard hair. His trousers seemed a little too tight all of a sudden, as if they shouldn't be showing the shape of his leg so much. And the bare gap across his knee, above his perfectly straight socks was too big wasn't it?  
He couldn't take his eyes off Clive's legs, and knew he wasn't being subtle anymore. As if to break him out of the daze, the boy wriggled a little more, un-crossed and re-crossed his legs, adjusted his tie, and cleared his throat. He was blushing. Layton felt a niggling note of panic and embarrassment in the back of his mind, but something else entirely was stopping it really bothering him. He was quite content to sit there, on the comfortable sofa, next to the warm fire, and admire the beautiful creature he was sharing tea with. Tea! There was an idea. He leaned forward to pour another cup.

Clive knew his mind was addled. He had been told so, and it was obvious from the outbursts he still suffered. But this was a different kind of madness. He had thought of the Professor in un-gentlemanly ways before, but he had never really seen the extent of how attractive he was until now. Reclined on the sofa across from him, the prestigious and well known Professor Layton seemed lost in thought. His face was quite pale. The way he cradled the delicate teacup in his large, gentle hands and sipped at it ever so slowly... quite frankly it was turning him on.  
And then there was the tounge. Clive was no fool, he knew the professor well enough to know that he wouldn't ever do something like that deliberately. But Layton was definitely, softly licking the rim of his teacup. 


	2. 2

WHAT was in that tea? The professor noticed what he was doing finally, and was mortified. Blushing madly, and feeling all together light-headed, Hershel Layton felt uncomfortable in more ways than just embarrassment. The hot weight, stiffening in his trousers was becoming unbearable. He shuffled awkwardly and adjusted his hat, desperately hoping that Clive would not notice his predicament.  
It was a problem. No, it was a puzzle that just needed an answer. Critical thinking, critical thinking... with mounting frustration, Hershel realised he couldn't think properly at all.

Clive, sitting blessedly cross-legged had lost all control of his imagination and was wondering what it would be like to touch the Professor. Really, touch him. To run his hands up under his shirt and pull him close, and to lie with him, naked, skin against skin.  
The weak voice of conscience was berating him;  
"Stop this, stop it now. If he had any idea... if he were to find out... you'd be outcast. Never see him again. You really must be insane. What a terrible thing to want..."  
Somehow, knowing how wrong it all was just made him want it MORE and want it NOW. He moved very subtly, rubbing his legs together to create much wanted friction. Really, as much as the little voice cautioned him to stop, it was all he could do not to grab himself with both hands right then.  
It was his breathing that gave him away, becoming heavy and uneven. Layton had been trying not to look, but turned at the sound.  
He caught Clive's eyes, which were hazy. Clive let out an involuntary whimper when his gaze was met and clapped a hand over his mouth, turning away from the eye contact and blushing furiously.  
'Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK' was all that ran through his head.

"There's... no more... I should take the dishes back to the kitchen" The Professor put on his best facade of calmness and stood up. Immediately realising his mistake as the bulge in his trousers came to Clive's eye-level.

That was it. That was all he needed to see. The young man jumped to his feet and kissed the Professor, hard and deeply on the mouth. Still holding his empty teacup, Layton wrapped his arms around the shorter boy and pulled him close, kissing him right back.  
Clive broke away, a look of pure animalistic lust reflected in the firelight in his eyes, and he pushed the Professor backwards to topple him onto the sofa he'd just stood up from.  
As he fell, the Professor grabbed Clive's tie and yanked him down on top of him. Dropping the teacup to the floor, there was a brief struggle until Hershel was on top, straddling Clive and rubbing their groins together. Both men were panting already, the boy still occasionally whimpering helplessly and the professor moaned deeply.  
Desperate to re-gain control, Clive tugged at Hershel's jacket and got it off him, then made a start on his shirt buttons. Hershel responded by holding the boy's hands above his head and pulling his tie off with his other hand, then his overcoat and waistcoat. He moved down to Clive's far-too-tight trouser buttons and left the boy's hands free to resume pulling off their shirts.  
"Ah~" Clive bit his lip to silence himself as he felt the shock of two long fingers enter him. His whole body quivered, every muscle tightened, then relaxed.  
The Professor couldn't quite believe what he was doing, but the young man's cries and failed attempts to surpress them were driving him crazy. He loved it. A 'gentleman' is still a 'man' after all.  
Bucking his hips urgently under the Professor, Clive ran his hands down the older man's back and nibbled at neck.  
Layton positioned himself where his fingers had just been, and pushed into him without hesitation. The completely unhindered cry he got from the boy made him thrust deeper still. The boy's teeth and tongue teased his neck and collar bones, he buried his face in his hair and smelled the clean, soapy smell of youth. He shifted downward, worrying the boy's ear with his lips and eventually catching his to kiss him again.  
Clive felt the Professor, large and needy, pulsing inside him. He felt his tongue, hot against his own, and he felt his hand wrap around his own pulsing manhood and rub, slowly at first, then with increased speed to match the speed he was thrusting with. The Professor seemed to taste like sweet tea, and smell of pure masculinity.  
They both came simultaneously, almost, Clive only a second or so ahead of the Professor. He cried out, and exploded over his own chest and Layton's hand, who was not far behind and moaned as he came.  
Hershel felt exhaustion flood his body, and he rolled off the sofa onto the soft carpet by the fire, pulling Clive down with him and letting the boy lie on top. He noticed that the boy was trembling and immediately mental clarity kicked in.  
What had he just done? Oh god. Sure, Clive was old enough in the eyes of the law, but he was really still a child compared to himself. He didn't even know if he'd been intimate with someone before.  
Putting a gentle hand under his chin, he lifted the boy's face up to meet his gaze...  
"I.. I can only apologize".. he wasn't sure what to say at all.  
Clive, still shaking apparently uncontrollably, looked at his Professor with complete sincerity;  
"Apologize? No. Don't. I mean, you shouldn't feel sorry for something like this."  
His devilish little smirk came back to his face and he kissed Hershel again, slowly.  
"You were amazing professor"  
"have you ever, I mean to say, have you ever... with anyone before now?"  
Clive looked away from the Professor's face, he looked troubled for a minute before admitting that no, he hadn't. Ever. The things he boasted about, the girls, it was all lies.

A door slamming upstairs startled them both out of their moment. Luke and Flora! When had they returned? How long had they been... preoccupied?  
All these thoughts ran through both of their minds as they scrambled to get dressed and look as presentable as possible, despite the circumstances. As Clive re-tied his tie, the professor picked up the tea tray and walked towards the kitchen door.  
"We should... talk... more Clive"  
The young gentleman in blue smiled back at him.  
"Yes, lets."


End file.
